Bad Blood
by batarangbecks
Summary: A missing high school student puts Walt face to face with a past wrong. Rated T for strong violence involving minors.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: I do not own Longmire. The character is the property of both Craig Johnson for the original book series and A&E for the television program. I own the plot/original characters and nothing else.**

Walt slammed the door of his SUV and strode purposefully towards the main double doors. Absaroka County High School, from the outside, had seen many a better day. The wall facing the open sports field had swathes of every imaginable Crayola color, remnants of half hearted attempts by the good folks of the community to eliminate the more vile graffiti. Even the main entryway, which could typically pass for presentable on any given day, was sporting a new softball-sized hole in one of the glass doors. Walt wasn't really noticing any of this; it was more like they were settling into his consciousness as he blazed his way to the main office.

A young woman was pulling her platinum blonde hair into an elastic while precariously balancing a pencil between her teeth when Walt knocked on the door jamb. She jumped, the elastic snapping shut and the pencil flying across the desk and onto the floor.

"Jesus Christ." She muttered and was already up and retrieving the pencil before she seemed to realize that she should probably greet the person who had so unceremoniously startled her. "Can I help you?" It was obvious that she was trying to keep her mask on, but the venom couldn't be hidden.

"Ma'am, my name is Sheriff Walt Longmire. I'm looking for one of your own teachers."

The woman's eyes bulged, but Walt wasn't sure if it was because of his title or the idea that he was looking for a member of the staff. He decided to chalk it up to his title and waited patiently as the woman retreated back to the safety of her desk.

"Sure. Um, may I ask who you're looking for?"

"Laura Rennison, if you don't mind."

"Okay. Just let me call down to be sure that she hasn't gone home yet." She reached for the phone on her desk and dialed an extension. After a few hushed words, she hung up and directed Walt towards Laura's classroom.

"Thank you for coming out, Sheriff." Laura Rennison pulled a plastic chair from out behind one of the front row desks and situated it in front of her own work station. "Honestly, I can only hope that it turns out to be a fool's errand."

"Well, I ain't no fool, Miss Rennison, so why don't you tell me what you told my deputy on the phone?"

The woman sighed, folding her hands on the desktop. "I know that it isn't my place." She stared down at her feet, as though she were still battling with whether or not she should share this information. "I have a student, a young man. His name's Brandon. He's been absent for the last two days and it just isn't like him. I don't think he's missed a day of school all year. I thought maybe it was something I had done, but I checked with the main office and he hasn't been in any of his classes, period."

"I see." Walt removed his hat and leaned forward in his chair. "Would Brandon have any reason to need to run?"

"Well, as far as I know, such a reason doesn't exist on school grounds. He's a sociable boy. But …" Laura let the thought drag out with another long sigh.

"Miss Rennison," Walt started, "if you truly are afraid for this boy, we need all of the information you have."

"That's just it. It isn't information, only rumors and whispers." Laura stood up, as though her worried frenzy needed the movement to escape. "I want my students to know that I trust them with their own lives but that, if they need anything, they can come to me. Brandon has never mentioned anything to me that would either prove or deny the things that people are saying. It could just be lies. Lord knows there are enough of those in a school anyway. But these sorts of accusations, they run deep."

"I'm afraid you aren't clearing things up so much as you're creating more questions, ma'am." It wasn't that Walt didn't believe the young teacher. From the way she was moving and speaking, he believed every word. This was not someone who would report a possible crime just for the limelight. This was someone who cared for the children she saw as being in her care, even if it were only for eight hours five days a week.

Laura bit her bottom lip and stood still for a moment. "There has been … talk that Brandon's home life may not be … safe. I really don't know how else to put it. It's only the father and three boys, and I never want to seem as though I'm distrustful of single parents. But something has always been off about the way he talks about his family. I've long thought he may have been holding back, but I can't make him tell me anything. Again, it may only be rumors. You're the sheriff. You would probably know better than anyone if there was any substance to them."

Walt stood up now. "You said this young man has been gone from school for two days?"

"Yes, sir. He was in class on Friday but I haven't seen him since."

"Does he have a last name?"

"Caldwell. You know, someone you should talk to is Alexis Marlowe. She and Brandon have been attached at the hip as long as I've been teaching them." She must have noticed the slight widening of his eyes, as she furrowed her brows together. "I'm sorry, did I say something?"

"No, ma'am. Just my own thoughts."

Laura looked skeptical but shook his hand and thanked him for coming by. "As I said before, Sheriff, I can only pray that this turns out to have been nothing to concern you with."

Back out in the silence of the truck, Walt sat in the driver's seat, the radio in his hand. It seemed childish to be so seriously considering sending one of his deputies on an errand that he could easily do himself. There were very few things that made Walt Longmire nervous, but for the last year, that young woman had been one of them.

"Ruby?"

"I read you, Walt. What can I help you with?"

"I need you to send Vic out to the high school to talk to a student."

"Is this about the lady who called this morning? I thought you already went out to talk to her about that."

"Ruby. Just ask Vic for me, would you, please?"

"Yes, sir. Can I give her a name to go by?"

"Alexis Marlowe. The front office told me that she should be at a sports practice for the next couple of hours, so she shouldn't be too hard to find."

"Oh. Oh, yes, I see. I'll tell her, Walt."

"Thanks, Ruby. I'll be back around soon."


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: I do not own Longmire. Original plot is mine and nothing else.**

Vic Moretti was still trying to figure out why her boss had been so insistent on sending her out to talk to someone that he was literally a minute's walk away from the entire time he was calling back to the station when she pulled into the parking lot next to the high school's sports center. A crowd of kids were spread out over the outdoor fields, between the baseball diamond and the soccer pitch. Vic pushed the long sleeves of her thermal shirt up above her elbows and stuffed her hands in her pockets as she made her way towards the pitch. She couldn't help but mutter some choice words under her breath as she walked. She knew from checking in at the administration office that he had already been there today, talking to the teacher who reported this possible missing student. It had to be something else. Walt may have been a hard ass on a good day, but he was a logical one. But what was it about a seemingly innocuous seventeen-year-old high school student that made Walt Longmire run and hide?

She got her answer sooner than expected when the sound of yelling started to reverberate around the pitch as she made her approach. She looked up in time to see a leggy blonde make a beeline for a redhead who didn't seem incredibly bothered by the idea.

"What the hell was that?" The blonde barely got the epithet out before a middle aged guy in sweats jumped into the middle of it.

"Brenna, watch that mouth." The blonde stalked off in the opposite direction as the coach turned to the redhead. "Lexi, you know my policy. You're on the bench."

"Hey, what the hell happened to three strikes?" Vic realized with more than a little disdain that she may have just figured out who she needed to be talking to, and it didn't sound like she was going to be in an amazing mood.

"Between that pretty move and your attitude, I think we've covered it, Marlowe. Bench, now."

Deciding that she had better proceed on eggshells, Vic made her way towards the coach rather than the fuming player. "Excuse me, can I speak with you for a moment?"

The coach turned around, obviously still steaming from having to break up a fight. But he managed a deep exhale before speaking. "Yeah, sure. You from the sheriff's office?"

"Deputy Victoria Moretti. I'm looking for a player of yours, Alexis Marlowe?"

Vic wasn't all that surprised when the coach burst out laughing at the mention. She probably would have done the same thing in his position. "Of course you are. Well, she's right over there. Approach with caution, though. That one may actually be a biter."

He moved off to start hollering at his defensive lineup while Vic took a second to gather herself. She couldn't help but actually be afraid of that biting possibility. However, she moved over to the set of wooden benches, littered with gym bags and water bottles.

Alexis was pounding back on her own sports drink, her elbows resting on her knees as she frowned at the field. She seemed a bit short for her age, probably just around the five foot three mark. Her outfit was a nauseating combination of three tank tops, all different colors and none of which seemed to coordinate with any of the others, and a pair of gym shorts emblazoned with her school's logo. Upon closer inspection, her hair seemed to be less of a fiery shade and more of an auburn, pulled back in a ponytail with a braid running along the side of her head.

"Alexis?"

She looked up, obviously ready to be incredibly pissed with whoever was bothering her. Vic wasn't sure what exactly about her appearance chilled the venom, but her shoulders visibly relaxed. "How can I help you?"

"My name is Deputy Moretti. One of your teachers suggested that we come and talk to you about a friend of yours. Brandon Caldwell?"

Suddenly, the fire was back in Alexis' eyes, but Vic wasn't entirely sure if it was because of fear or rage. She stood up and got right in Vic's face, but it wasn't a confrontation. There was a pleading there, a strong sense of worry. Maybe it was fear in her eyes. She was pushing for answers even before she opened her mouth. "What happened? I swear, I have been texting him and trying to call him. I would try the house, but … is he okay? Where is he?"

"Woah, slow down, kid. I'm not superhuman."

This didn't seem to sit well with Alexis. "Well, just, is he okay?"

"How about we sit down and swap information, okay? You look like you could use the break." She didn't look happy about it, but Alexis let Vic guide her back onto the bench. "Why don't you start? Your teacher said that you and Brandon are close."

Alexis held her head in her hands as she spoke. "My family moved here when I was in fourth grade. Bran was the only kid who asked a question about me when the teacher prompted. We've been best friends ever since. I tell him everything, and until this week, I thought it was mutual."

"The office said that Brandon hasn't been in school since Friday. You mentioned that he wasn't answering calls."

"He never misses school unless something is seriously wrong with the boys, but they've both been at school. I know, I went and checked over lunch on Monday as soon as Bran didn't show up for physics. Come hell or high water, Bran is always in school. I can't even bring myself to..."

"Hey, we don't need to be thinking that way. Why wouldn't you have tried calling the house?"

Alexis snorted as though the answer should have been written all over her face. "Even though the odds are fairly slim that that bastard doesn't have something to do with where Bran's gone, I did not want to run the risk of alerting him should he actually not have noticed that he was gone."

Vic raised her eyebrows. "Care to elaborate?"

Alexis had about a moment of hesitation, although she tried to hide it behind her bottle of sports drink. Vic couldn't help but sense that the fire was still burning. "Bran's mom died a year ago last Christmas. She got diagnosed with leukemia, and it was too aggressive for them to help her very much at that point. Ever since, his dad hasn't cared about him or the boys. To top it all off, the alcohol has gone straight to his ego so he is constantly thinking that Bran is trying to steal his 'role in the family', which is hilarious because he probably doesn't even remember the boys' names." Alexis exhaled hard and stood up before quickly sitting back down.

Vic raised an eyebrow. "Has Family Services been contacted?"

"Oh, I've tried. But they aren't going to listen to a minor. The school needs 'evidence', and no matter how hard I push him, Bran isn't willing to say anything. He's worried that they would separate him and the boys. So he just keeps making up excuses for the injuries." Now Alexis did stand up, obviously in too much of a frenzy to be pinned down in one place. "I'm telling you, deputy, if anything has happened to Bran, that bastard is responsible. Mark my words."

"Your words have been so marked." By nature, Vic didn't trust, and honestly, this kid was starting to rub her the wrong way. She wished that she had gotten a chance to talk to Walt before heading out here so she at least knew if he had any sort of inkling that there might actually be trouble versus a kid having just given up on high school. She determined that there weren't any other questions that she needed to, or rather felt like asking, so she stood up to dismiss herself. But she only got a few steps before she turned around again.

"Can I ask you an off the record question?"

Alexis dragged her arm across her mouth after taking another long drink. "Sure. About Bran?"

"No, about you, actually."

Alexis raised her eyebrows. "Um, okay. I guess."

Vic thought for about half a second that maybe this wasn't her place. But the next thought amounted to screwing Walt and getting an answer the old fashioned way. Besides, this girl was probably ten times more likely to give a clear reason, seeing as how Walt tended to be all about the ambiguity these days.

"Is there any reason the sheriff would be less than inclined to have come to do this interview himself?"

Alexis laughed. "Well, it actually depends on who you ask. He might think there's a reason even if I don't." Vic simply raised an eyebrow, which seemed to provide her with enough information to proceed. "My father used to work with Walt. That's why my family's here in the first place." Alexis hesitated before procedeeding. "Dad was killed in the line of duty about a year and a half ago. Walt's been avoiding me ever since. My guess is that he's assumed that I'm pissed at him, a fact which is entirely not the case. However, I can say that I'm pissed at him for _assuming _that I would hold a grudge."

Vic shoved her hands in her pockets. "Alright, then. Thanks for that. Sorry for your loss."

Alexis shrugged. "My father made sure he ended every conversation the two of us had with telling me goodbye. I was bred for this possibility long before I ever knew Walt Longmire."

The coach whistled and hollered for Alexis to come in for a huddle. "It was a pleasure meeting you, Deputy Moretti. If you find out anything about Bran, I would appreciate an update."

"I'll do my best." Vic called after her, but her mind was already back in the game.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: I own original plot/characters and nothing else.**

"I just think it's funny, that's all."

Walt slammed the car door shut behind him. The house in front of him was a low set bungalow. The paint had sporadic patches of rust and water damage, and the grass was a good half an inch longer than the neighboring lawn. The screen door was closed, but the interior door was wide open and allowed a slightly obstructed view of a sparse living room.

He didn't turn to face Vic when he answered. "Oh yeah, and just what might that be?"

"The fact that you are so damn afraid of a seventeen year old girl."

Now Walt stopped. He had hoped that maybe, if she was ever going to let just one thing go, it would be this. This was why he was never a man of wishful thinking. "I am not afraid of that young woman, Vic."

"Right, so you just sent me out to talk to her, ignoring the fact that you were only about two hundred feet away from her at the time, because you thought I needed more exercise." Vic had caught up to him and now walked ever so slightly ahead. "I mean, she's got a bit of a temper, but hell, so did I when I was her age. It's hormones and shit."

"Vic, I need you to focus."

He could have sworn he heard her mutter something else about hormones and mood swings in response, but he'd genuinely stopped listening. He knocked his fist on the edge of the screen door and took an extra step back. He didn't have any reason to confirm or deny the allegations that Mr. Silas Caldwell was abusive or combative, but he decided to play it safe for safety's sake.

He was caught more than a bit off guard when a young boy came to the door instead. He couldn't have been more than about six years old. He made no move to open the door, simply stood behind the screen and blinked up at the visitors. His curly brown hair hung a bit in his eyes and was peppered with flecks of a more golden tone.

"Hey there, guy." Vic piped up. Walt tried his best not to physically gag at her tone of voice. "Is your dad home?"

The boy still didn't say anything, but a large hand came down on his shoulder. Walt couldn't help but notice that he recoiled a bit at this new touch, and he didn't need much convincing before bolting back into the house proper. Mr. Caldwell leaned against the door jamb but didn't make any move to actually open the screen door.

"What do you want?" His voice seemed to have a permanent catch in it, dropping syllables wherever he pleased.

"Are you Silas Caldwell?" Walt found himself shifting his weight to the other foot, trying to get a better look inside. Maybe it was still the teacher's words hanging over his head, but something wasn't sitting right with him about that little boy.

"Yeah. What's it matter to you?" Mr. Caldwell turned aside to cough, and Walt noticed a long cut peeking out from the edge of his flannel shirtsleeves. The skin still looked broken; it couldn't have been more than two days old.

"Mr. Caldwell, my name is Sheriff Walt Longmire." He jerked his head towards Vic. "This is Deputy Moretti. We were contacted by the high school. It seems your son Brandon hasn't been coming the last few days. His teachers seemed worried."

Caldwell snorted, an ugly disgusting sound. Vic wrinkled her nose. "Is your son here, Mr. Caldwell?"

"Not that one, no. You can tell those teachers to stop worrying. He ain't worth their time or yours."

The man started to move away, but if Walt had been hesitant before, it vaporized. "Mr. Caldwell, when did you last see Brandon?"

"Crap, I don't remember. He probably thinks he's safer if he doesn't talk to me."

Vic's eyes widened ever so slightly. "Safe from what?"

"Getting his ass caught again." Caldwell jabbed his pointer finger into Walt's chest but seemed to have trouble focusing on what he had meant to say. "That kid ... he's, y'know, he's a ... what do you call it? A problem child. Kid's been damn trouble since the day he was born."

Walt looked down at his chest as though the man's touch was enough to break the skin. "Has Brandon ever run off like this before?"

Caldwell rolled his eyes and let his shoulders sag as though he were bored with the entire line of questioning. "Shit, I can't remember. He hasn't run off this time. He's probably holed up with that slut he hangs around with."

Walt felt the almost involuntary step forward before it registered in his mind. Fortunately Vic moved in front of him. "Are you talking about Alexis Marlowe, Mr. Caldwell?"

"Sure, probably, the one who had the damn nerve to assault me over parenting skills? Hey, I never heard back from you cops about that. What gives?"

Now it was Vic's turn to roll her eyes. "Did you file a report?"

"Did I what?"

Walt smiled. "Sir, please let us know if Brandon contacts you, alright?"

"Yeah, sure, whatever." Caldwell moved away from the doorway before hollering down a side hallway, "Boys! I need to talk to you!"

Walt turned back towards the vehicle, but Vic caught his elbow. "Walt, we can't seriously be leaving him with those kids."

He glanced back into the house, thinking of the little boy and how he pulled away from his father's touch. "I don't think this is the last time we'll be seeing Mr. Caldwell, Vic."

_A/N: Wow, sorry, this took a lot longer than I intended! Then it didn't even turn out to be that good. ): Read and review anyway?_


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: I own the original plot/characters and nothing else.**

_Note: I'm actually reading the Longmire books right now in order to tide myself over until new episodes return (I realize that I'm going to be waiting a while). The good thing is that it also kicks my muse into high gear!_

It took Vic all of a minute and a half of the drive back to the office to push her new favorite issue so far as to have Walt seriously consider driving straight into the river. Even as they walked in the door, she showed no signs of letting up.

"You know what? I don't need you to tell me."

Ruby was already thumbing through a stack of "while you were out" forms by the time Walt crossed to her desk. "Oh, Stacey called and said that you were welcome to stop by at your leisure. She's home with a charge the next couple of days."

"Stacey?" Branch lifted the brim of his hat and blinked repeatedly as though he were fighting sleep. "You mean Stacey Marlowe?"

"Thank you, Ruby." Walt made a show of avoiding eye contact with Branch and leaned his weight on the corner of the Ferg's desk. "Ferg, I need you to get me a check on Silas Caldwell. You're probably going to need to talk to Family Services." In his eagerness to obey, Ferg slammed his gut into the desktop and spent the next several minutes assessing the fictional damage.

"What does Josh's wife have to do with the town drunk?"

"See?" Vic chimed in. "Two minutes with Branch and I get more information than I could pull out of you in half an hour." Her moment was quickly mollified with a side eye from Walt.

"You going to fill me in," Branch tried again, "or are we both just going to sit here playing deputy tug of war?"

Vic took her exit while the moment was good, sliding into her desk chair and examining her commemorative volunteer fire department mug as though it was her last meal on death row.

"One of the teachers at the high school called, wanted to let us know that Caldwell's oldest hasn't been at classes for a few days."

Branch made no effort to hide his disdain. "You really think following up on every kid who skips school is a good use of our time?"

"Really?" Vic quipped. "I didn't know you were there, Branch. You must have been awful quiet."

It was obvious Branch was trying to be the better person by not giving Vic a dirty look, but he suffered no ill will from rolling his eyes at Walt's slight smile.

"There are rumours of abuse in the family. Once Ferg finishes that check …"

"Working on it!" Ferg finally looked up from his gut.

"I wasn't worried, Ferg. As I was saying, once the check goes through, we can start finding out how much truth there is to it."

Walt crossed to his office but was stopped in the doorway by Vic asking Branch what he knew about the Marlowe family.

"Oh, Josh used to work for the department. He was a good man. It's a real shame about what happened, but isn't it always?" Branch had tilted his hat back over his eyes and leaned back in his desk chair.

Walt kept walking into his office, but he chose not to shut the door just yet.

"Yeah, that's what his daughter told me."

"So you got the pleasure of meeting Alexis, huh? God rest his soul, she is her father's child."

Walt heard Ferg's desk chair squeak as he turned to face the others. "Isn't she the one on the soccer team that gave an out of town goalie a bloody nose?"

Branch laughed. "I was at that game. The other girl had it coming. It's common sense not to lean into the ball."

Vic turned the conversation back to the information she wanted. "She said her dad died on the job. So, what, was there some kind of malpractice?"

"Not as far as I know." Branch offered. "He was responding to a possible drug bust, got shot from the house while he was still at the end of the lane. There hadn't been any indication that the dealers might have been armed. It couldn't have been predicted."

"Well, how did his kid take it?"

"She was rough for the first year or so. Her mom's a social worker, worked it so that she could be home. I'm not sure that helped. Alexis doesn't cause trouble, I don't worry about her." Now Branch's chair squeaked. "What does she have to do with Caldwell anyway?"

"Teacher made it sound like the two of them were pretty close. She certainly has it out for the father."

The conversation out in the bullpen dissolved into static behind Walt's racing thoughts. He decided that he hadn't told Vic what she wanted to know not so much because there was any malpractice behind Josh's death but because he didn't have a good reason for why he hadn't spent much time with Alexis in the last two odd years.

Josh had gone to the academy and worked out of San Francisco for three years before deciding that he wanted to slow things down. He told Walt that he didn't like the idea of being a city cop with his young daughter. So the family had come to live in Durant a shade off six years ago. Branch was right when he said that Josh was a good man, and Alexis had taken after both of her parents in every best way. Josh had always been faithful about rotating her sports team picture in the bronze frame on his desk. After the shooting, when Stacey had come by to pick up his personal effects, she had given the frame to Walt. He had proceeded to keep it in his bottom desk drawer, from which he now pulled it out.

Alexis still had her braces and was beaming for the whole world to see. When Walt thought about her, he could only conjure up good memories. But it was different when he stood in front of her. When he saw her face to face, all he saw was Josh: a good man, a good cop, a tragedy.


End file.
